


Catching Up

by LaPetiteReveuse



Category: Amar a Muerte (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaPetiteReveuse/pseuds/LaPetiteReveuse
Summary: Valentina is a third-year working on her dissertation, Juliana is a first-year working on trying to survive living away for the first time. When the two have a chance encounter that sparks a friendship they'd both been in search for without realising it.





	1. with your hosts Vale and Guille

**Author's Note:**

> So for the podcast inserts the names have been changed, but they all begin with the same letter (so Elena is Eva), and I hope that it'll be quite easy to know who is being spoken about within the context.

_G: Hello, Vale!_

_V: Hi, Guille._

_G: And of course, hello to all of you out there! This is Guille speaking,_

_V: And I’m Vale. And this is_ Catching Up _, the weekly podcast where we talk about our recent week and everything in it. Mainly everything._

_G: Yep, we change the names, but the facts remain. So! Vale, tell me about your week._

Though it was on the surface just something that had been a fun way to keep in contact with one another when Valentina had first moved to university and Guille moved in which his girlfriend, their podcast had also acted as their lifeline that they didn’t care to admit. When Valentina’s doubt rose in her and threatened to force her to drop out of university, and Guille’s rashness had almost made him give up on trying to make his relationship work, the other speaking through a speaker had talked them down from their ledges and back to reality. That it was hard and messy and that even if they couldn’t simply walk down the hall to the other’s room any longer, they were still just on the other end of a phone call.

It had started with just them. Talking about whatever came to mind while they caught up every Saturday morning when neither was busy, but it had become much more. It had become a scheduled chat to the wider world who found the Carvajal siblings far more entertaining than either of them had expected. Quickly, it became apparent to them that though the podcast was _theirs_ they also belonged to people who they had never met.

After the fifth episode had aired, with little consideration about their potential audience, they become overflooded with messages both positive and negative. They tried to only focus on the positive with some strain and were both suddenly hit with the sense that this was not bigger than just the weekly chats they’d intended them to be.

The public became invested in their family drama which they quickly realised they would have to censor a great deal, and though it was obvious to anyone who knew the Carvajal siblings who they were talking about, to everyone else they became nameless characters in a telenovela-style plot that audiences questioned the true story behind. But it didn’t matter about the truth so much as the entertainment. This became apparent after the sudden murder of their father was said to be ‘poor writing’ and ‘unnecessary’. A sentiment that the siblings couldn’t have agreed with more, though was not something they could ignore the same way that you could a book you were reading. It was their reality, and they had no choice but to keep reading.

Their ratings suffered as they were also doing, and then they realised that the podcast was also them. Their lifeline and their soul. Bared out in sound waves for the public consumption. Becoming aware of this allowed them to continue to fit the genre. They exaggerated stories but kept them true, they changed names but not details and removed themselves enough to remain anonymous while simultaneously giving everything they had into it.

 

_G: …which is why I didn’t make it to the meeting on Thursday, and because of it Elena isn’t speaking to me. I mean… I’m not talking to her either after the whole drama with Romina—_

_V: With the pay thing?_

_G: Yes,_ and _, a comment she said the other day about dad’s birthday._

_V: How did that go in the end?_

_G: Awfully. It was all for the public and barely got a second to actually commemorate him._

_V: <hums softly> _

_G: But_ anyway! _How’s the dissertation going?_

_V: <groan> _

_G: So, well? <laugh> _

_V: I have a meeting with my supervisor on Tuesday so I have the weekend to get the rest of the first chapter written._

_G: And how far through are you?_

_V: It’s all there, just… in notes._

_G: So, you have a lot to get through in three days._

_V: Yes._

After a sleepless night, crouched over her laptop in the one quiet corner of the library, Valentina pressed Ctrl-S feeling light a weight weighing in her lungs was expelled in a single sigh. It was only a first draft, but it was done, and it was saved and finally, she could sleep. She sent it over to her supervisor with a quick email and then closed her laptop perhaps a little too heavily and leant back into her chair.

For perhaps the first time she looked up and around the library and noticed that the gentle hum of students and staff that had been present when she’d sat down, had now all left. Leaving only the soft sound of computer screens and Valentina’s own breathing. She pushed herself on to her feet and, feeling the blood rush back to them, took one step at a time until she managed to the ground floor where the security guard sat to the welcome desk usually busy with library staff and tech support. Sitting alone, he offered her a warm but tired smile.

‘Good evening,’ she greeted offering her own tired smile.

He nodded in reply, ‘and to you, Miss. Have a good evening.’

The walk back to her house felt like she’d crosses continents by the time she reached her front door and fumbled to find the right key to let her inside. There her housemates sat in the front room with half drunk bottles on their coffee table, arguing about the TV and with the smell of takeaway in the air. Valentina lets herself be tempted for a moment as she finished Sergio’s drink on the coffee table and took a slice of the pizza sitting in the centre of them all.

‘Vale!’ Sergio cheers as she falls into the couch between him and Nayeli. Lucho sits on the other end of the couch, obviously put out by the fact that Valentina had not chosen to fall into his side instead. But it was something she just didn’t have the effort for at half two in the morning when all she was craving was peace and numbness. Something to switch her mind off from her looming deadlines and the assignments that went with them that she wasn’t prepared for.

Lucho was mentally taxing, and another project that she was to work at. And, when she could only focus on one at a time, Project Lucho took a back seat.

‘Here,’ Sergio said pouring her a shot of mezcal and drunkenly spilling some over the table.

Valentina took it and sipped at it without knowing really what compelled her to do so. Perhaps in celebration to her recent chapter completion, maybe to forget her worries about its quality, or perhaps she accepted the shot simply because it was being offered to her and he’d never said no.

One became another, and another until Valentina had forgotten her worries about her dissertation or any of the other assignments she had, or about her stress with Lucho. Till there was an easy buzz in her head and her vision became both sharper and more clouded. Like looking into a glass ball that magnified an image while sending the proportions completely off.

As they all settled on watching a Louis Theroux documentary they’d all already seen before, none of them paid attention to the tv and sat in blissful giddiness. Lucho made his way over to sit by Valentina when Nayeli got up to use the bathroom. He sat with his leg pressed firmly against hers, and his arm around her holding onto her as though she were to blow away in the still air. If she had been sober enough she would have subtly moved across the room to free herself of his grasp, but she knew that cues were not something Lucho had a skill at picking up on, and moving from his hold just a little would have begun a game of cat and mouse she wasn’t in the mood for.

So, she endured until she felt her eyelids droop, and the sound of Nayeli’s voice became a monotonous hum that Valentina could no longer take in even if she tried. ‘I think it’s time I went to bed,’ she explained, standing unsteadily on her feet and then moving to grab her bag. Lucho stood too, too quickly and a glass fell over, spilling the content over Valentina’s bag. In a panic she yanked it open and pulled out her laptop, rushing to wipe it off before it soaked in.

Laughter from her two housemates and Lucho followed her as she grabbed a towel from the kitchen and patted the keyboard of her laptop dry. Sobriety seeping through her brain only welcoming anger.

‘Valentina, calm down!’ Lucho exclaimed as he joined her in the kitchen and pressed himself again her back, wrapping his hands around her front and moving her hair away from her neck so that could press his lips against the skin in the crook of her neck.

She ignored his invitation and carried on with trying to save her laptop as Lucho made the action difficult as he began to sway to a song that Nayeli was now playing through the tv.

‘Lucho, stop.’ She tried softly but this only spired him on as an invitation for resistance.

‘Come on, Vale. Have some fun.’

‘I’ve had my fun. And now I’m trying to dry off my laptop.’ She ran her fingers over the keys feeling they were dry and not even sticky. She closes the laptop again and wipes the outside for good measure.

‘It was an accident, okay?’ He begged.

Valentina turned to face him, which he took to be a compliance with his wishes. He kissed her with drunken inaccuracy, breathing heavily into her mouth.

‘No Lucho. I’m not in the mood.’ She pushed him away from her and turned to walk out of the room.

He grabbed her arm to stop her, to force her to listen to his plea, ‘You’re never in the mood anymore. You don’t make time for me anymore.’

‘I’m working on my degree Lucho.’

‘And that goddamned podcast.’ He muttered.

‘Yeah. I’m allowed to talk to my brother once a week.’

His lips tightened, ‘it just seems that you invest a lot of time into making sure your audience are happy when you neglect your boyfriend.’

The sound of Sergio and Nayeli in the living room rose to a suffocating volume as Valentina realised that all she needed was to be away from it all. The heat rose in her chest and then in her face. ‘I see you _every_ day, Lucho! I call Guille once a week.’

Obviously unsatisfied by this he pushed his way past her and out of the room. Left in the messy kitchen alone she wished for nothing more than her brother’s presence with her. Even just his words in her ear to tell her that her sadness was a matter of her current situation, not her permanent situation. She pulled out her phone, knowing that the time difference wouldn’t have been fair on him, and so instead entered the comments section of last weeks episode.

Moving to sit on the dirty floor she scrolls through comment after comment of appreciation and feels some ease. Even if from the words of a faceless-nameless stranger, it helped somehow. She read the words she only vacantly felt her fingers typing _thank you guys, the support makes it all worth it <3 many kisses_. She read it back to herself out loud before then pressing post to add it to the mass of messages. Quickly the likes swarm to her message, wanting to be included in the discourse. She stops herself from imputing any more, realising that the instant attention was all she really needed from the interaction. She felt unclean suddenly, reducing her audience to yet another instant fix. Just something else to numb her for a moment.

Few words were shared between her and the rest of her company when she picked herself up and wandered up to her room. With the door closed behind her, she plugged her laptop in to charge and then fell into her bed for a few hours of sleep before she’d be awoken by her alarm that signalled the beginning of another week of early mornings and late nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes this first chapter has just been Valentina, but I promise that Juliana will appear in the second chapter, I was just wanting to give a lot of background. Quite ironic really that I'm procrastinating writing my dissertation by writing someone writing their dissertation. A meta form of self-destruction. 
> 
> But anyway! I hope that you have enjoyed this chapter and will enjoy further ones (though I'm not sure how long this is actually going to be yet), if you have feel free to leave a like or comment below; it always makes me grin like an idiot in public when I get those emails. x


	2. deciding an end of year project

It was not something that came easy to Juliana. This forced interaction with people that she really was only using for her own sense of self pride. It was nicer to say she’d spent the evening out with her course mates than to admit that really all she wanted to do was spend the night in her front room with a comfortable level of noise and where the appropriate attire did not involve heels. She clutched onto her alcohol-free cocktail that she’d been working on for an hour now because it kept her hands busy and stopped random people offering to busy her a drink. A smile plastered precariously on her lips that hardly looked convincing.

She took a sip through the thin plastic straw and nodded along to whatever the girl in front of her was saying about material quality and how this was playing into her recent design choice. She wasn’t even able to say whether she agreed or not given her limited knowledge on the subject, and that Juliana had found herself sincerely behind in recent weeks. Being unable to come up with even a suitable theme for her portfolio and thus end of year display. She’d been disillusioned to believe university was going to be filled with likeminded people, and that her lack of experience would not mark her out of a crowd.

While everyone was fighting against the grain, to stand out against everyone else in their class, Juliana just wanted to blend in. To belong. She’d spent too long at elementary and high school standing out like a sore thumb for the worst reasons and she was ready to leave all of it behind her. Where no one knew her dad, or her money situation, or what baggage she carried with her wherever she went. University was a fresh start.

Only it wasn’t feeling like it yet. It was feeling like every other time she started a new school. Except instead of being able to blame he upbringing for her difficulty, she only had herself. Her own inability to keep up with the other students and her own inability to blend into a crowd.

Her grades didn’t suffer, but her own self-pride did.

‘I’m going to go to the toilet,’ she announced to an apathetic crowd. Her place in the circle was quickly closed once she left it, as they carried on without her.

Once returning to the few people who had held back to wait for her, she was pulled off to the next location; a club which they all queued outside of. Waiting in the cold to pay their money for an experience that Juliana wasn’t particularly looking forward to. Their group paired off in conversations with Juliana between them all adding odd comments to discussions she wasn’t fully a part of. The project playing a part in almost every one of them and so causing a panic within Juliana.

And so, when they reach the front, she couldn’t bare to part with the five dollars that the entrance fee called for.

‘I think I’m gonna call it a night actually,’ she said and jumped out of the queue before she could be persuaded to go any further.

‘Okay, we’ll see you on Wednesday in class,’ one of her classmates called to her as they then disappeared inside the club.

Juliana walked back to her student flat with still a very poor sense of direction. She pictured the path that brought her here but finds the streets look too similar. Feeling alone for not the first time since she’d come to university, she considered calling her mom and telling her to prepare her bed for her arrival back home. This act of university student wasn’t fitting her anymore, and she couldn’t keep trying to force herself into it.

 A Google Maps journey later, and she sat to her cheap Ikea desk staring at a childhood picture of her mom and her pinned up on a corkboard. Her smile, though forced at the time of the photograph, had been taken on one of her best days as a child. The family trip to watch the Día de Muertos parade through the streets of Mexico City. Juliana had sat on her father’s shoulders for most of the day in order to see over the heads of the crowd. And yet she had never felt more part of it. More proud of it. Though the day had ended almost immediately after that photo had been taken, when her father had caused them to be removed from the premise for his drunken swearing and threatening to punch a security guard until he ‘would need his own place in his family’s ofrenda’.

That evening, at eight years old, Juliana had drawn he first outfit design. One that over time she would adapt and improve in order to practice both her drawing skills and her designing skills. Juliana moved to the other side of her room where her shelf held a folder containing what few of these original designs she had kept. She opened it to a page towards the back. Uncompleted, she pulled it from its sleeve and lay it out flat under her hands.

An outfit she had designed, inspired by the fashion of indigenous Mexican women. A bright coloured skirt and huipil. She’d seen variations of this outfits within history textbooks she’d paid little attention to, or at festivals that her parents had taken her to see. _This_. She thinks. _This is my project_.

In the space of one night, she drew up a further three designs featuring other bright designs with headdresses and jewellery to go along with them. Scrolling through pictures on the small screen of her phone she saved ones she likes and uses them as inspiration for colours and materials.

By the time she finished, she sat surrounded by papers with notes and drawings, her hand cramping from having held onto a pen for so long. Yet, the pain from her hand was numbed by the size of happiness that sat in her chest. A warm glow at having found what her theme for her project was going to be and knowing that she would finally be completing the designs created by eight-year-old Juliana.

Gathering all her pictures and notes together she began a folder of the work and then organizes a meeting with her lecturer to go over the ideas. Sitting back, happy with her progress her mind flicks briefly to the next step.

 _No!_ She pushed it away actively chastising herself for belittling her own achievement. She closed the folder and put it aside, refusing to taint the breakthrough with stressing over small details like colour matching and unclear details.

Instead, she puts her earphones in and scrolls through Spotify in search of something that was going to distract her. The most recent thing she’d listened to sitting at the bottom of the screen. A half listened to episode of _Catching Up_ that she’d been listening to on the walk to the bar. Pressing play, the icon of a weekly planner with the title written over the top in Sharpie comes up accompanied by the sound of hosts Guille and Vale amidst their story.

She leant back in her chair and closed her eyes to focus on only the voices of the two strangers whose life she felt almost too immersed in. She’d only found the podcast when arriving at university and scrolling through Spotify’s podcast list finding something to listen to while walking too and from classes. Sat amongst the ‘stories’ category, Juliana had begun listening and had become quickly entertained by the stories that these siblings told one another. The writing had been somewhat stretched, but the voice actors sold it well. It sounded as though their experiences were real and happening in real time.

Juliana had only listened to the first ten or so episodes, finding that listening to twenty minutes here and then was enough to entertain her in whatever mindless job she’d found herself doing, craving something to focus on otherwise. There was something in the voices of both ‘Guille’ and ‘Vale’ that ran over Juliana like a warm ocean current. In the current episode she listened to Guille explained about his recent issues with his partner’s new cat, while Vale dealt with her own issues surrounding her first-year university housemates. This was another reason Juliana enjoyed listening; Vale’s honesty when speaking of her university experience. It was something rarely captured by the media as truthfully, without the glamourizing of sleepless nights and anxiety-inducing situations. Vale spoke with raw emotion that made Juliana question whether the actress playing Vale had truly been to university herself and knew how to channel the experience into the character.

 

_V: …of course, despite the clearly written message on the fridge about not leaving filled glasses of cider in the door, I pull open the door and get splashed by the stuff! …_

Juliana giggles to herself picturing the situation. She moves to get ready for bed whilst still listening to more of the siblings’ week.

 

_G: …I just tried to surprise her with getting all of the laundry done._

_V: How kind._

_G: Thank you!_

_V: How’d you mess it up?_

_G: Rude of you to assume I messed it up! <pause> I dyed all of her clothes pink. _

_V: <laugher> Pink!? _

Juliana slipped into sleep listening to the podcast. Having completely forgotten about her experience out previously in the evening, and with a clear mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blimey, what a response after only one day!? 
> 
> And that final ep right?? Heart was in my mouth throughout. 
> 
> As always feel free to leave a comment or even pop over to my tumblr @packetofjambagels :) Thank you x


	3. i really need that book

Though Valentina had been prepared for the inevitable critique of her first chapter, her sleeplessness and recently acquire permanent anxiety had cause the constructive criticism to permeate her confidence. Her notepad sat in her lap, open and blank, with a pen poised in the other hand ready to write what was being spoken to her.

Dr Camilo Guerra could sense Valentina’s unease as soon as she entered the room and squeaked out a small greeting. She’d sat up straight in the office chair opposite Camilo and nodded silently to everything he told her or asked her. Even when the question required more than a submissive answer, she was quick to answer it with few words in order that he take centre stage again.

‘Where do you see this chapter going in the dissertation?’ Camilo asked with his hands clasped in front of him.

Valentina hummed in thought, ‘chapter one?’

Nodding Camilo looked to his computer screen again where Valentina’s chapter was up on the screen with squiggled red lines littering the document. Valentina avoided looking at it, knowing that the image would only fill her with a dreaded sense of embarrassment and worry. She knew there were words in it that wouldn’t be recognised, authors names and book titles that Microsoft wasn’t familiar with, but the sight still panicked her with the idea that it was painfully obvious to Camilo that that chapter had been rushed.

‘It might be work actually having another chapter before this one in order to give context to what you mean when speaking about ‘children’s literature’ and what exactly you mean when speaking about ‘death culture’. _I_ understand what you’re getting at here, but it might be work an additional chapter to give context to genre and theme of research. Perhaps look at books such as _The Invention of Childhood_ by Cunningham or _Death and Dying_ by Howarth?’

Valentina quickly scribbled his words down. Flashing before her eyes was both the end to her block which she had found herself with, and the obstacle of a hell of a lot more research. She knew by now that any claim required a name and year of publication to follow and thus hours spent in the library searching for quotes. They were concepts she understood, and knew how to explain verbally, but in an assignment it was different. There were so many previous steps that needed to be taken before words could even be considered on the page.

Still, she thought, there’s a word count to be filled. And a chapter explaining something she knew well already well were words that were going to be easy to build up.

‘Yeah?’ Camilo asked as Valentina’s page quickly filled with notes she was making.

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed excitably, ‘Would I be looking into the death culture of just the society that the books are written in or in general?’

Camilo strokes his beard in thought, ‘just the one’s you speak about will be enough. Any more and you’ll get lost in research and your dissertation will become something else.’

She nodded and jotted it down.

‘Where have you spoken about?’

‘Mainly American, English and French texts. And there’s one from Mexico. A kids picture book called Rosita y Conchita by Gonzalez and Haeger?’ She doesn’t know why she makes it into a question, but uncertainty filled her the moment she started speaking the words. Even though together they’d discussed the titles she was going to be discussing before.

He nodded happily, ‘you’ll need to look into the Día de Muertos then. That’ll be fun.’

Valentina nodded herself, remembering the holiday fondly and finding herself disappointed that would be missing spending it with her family again this year. Praises could be sung for the experience of living away from home for months of independence at a time, but missing events from back home was surely one of the biggest kicks to the chest. Last year, Guille had filmed parts of it, with her new niece sitting atop of Mateo’s shoulders smiling happily to all the bright colours and patterns. She saw as the floats passed by evoking a smile to the faces of everyone present. And then later as they lit the candles on the ofrenda where her father’s picture smiled warmly to them all, truly with them all in that moment.

The videos were nice, and homely and yet also made Valentina feel so unbearably lonely. Spent sitting on her own staring into a laptop screen while Sergio and Nayeli banged on her door prompting her to join them in the lounge. Valentina knew that her father was with her, even if she was so far away, but sometimes it felt _too_ separate from her life back home. As though the two played out independently of one another.

‘There’s a book in the library called _Skulls to the Living_ that might be worth having a look at,’ Camilo suggested, quickly searching the universities library database for the author, ‘by… Stanley Brandes.’

Valentina jotted down the surname and quickly the library reference in order to search for it later. Brain on hyperdrive as to getting all of the information down while it was still fresh in her mind.

When she left Camilo’s office after another moment’s delay spent exchanging pleasantries relating to Valentina’s other modules and assignments, and Camilo’s own list of deadlines that humanised him drastically in Valentina’s eyes. Yes, he was her dissertation supervisor, but also just a man. Someone who, like her, had targets and deadlines that he had to meet. Over the three years that Camilo had taught Valentina it had become apparent that he was not just doing the job because he was being paid to, but because it was something, he was passionate about and wished to share with whoever wanted to listen.

Given that deadline season was not yet upon them, the library appeared almost completely empty. Checking the location reference, she climbed the two flights of stairs in large bounds and found the correct shelf scanning the titles and authors in pursuit of the right one. Finding it difficult not to get distracted by the other titles that weren’t needed yet no less inviting.

Approaching from the other end of the shelves, a girl too scanned the spines of books in apparent search for a book of her own. Valentina offered the girl a smile, who’s face lit up contagiously before turning back to looking through the shelves.

Valentina moved further up the aisle as the girl moved closer to her until they’re stood side by side and staring at the same shelf.

Expecting that she’d have to move out of the way of the other girl, Valentina stepped back to allow the girl to quick move in front of her. But the girl stood still, her eyes brightening as she seemed to spot a particular book. Valentina looked towards the shelf too, in a luck of chance seeing her own book sitting there. She reached forward to take it quickly and then get out of the girls way, when the girl too reached out and their hand hit against one another’s.

Valentina pulled her arm back suddenly from the contact as the girl continued forward to take _her_ book and then step back.

‘Sorry,’ the girl apologised, looking to Valentina and smiling sheepishly.

Valentina’s smiled back with a giggle, ‘no. It’s okay. I just…’ she pointed to the book.

The girl looked panicked suddenly looking down to the book on which Valentina had her sight set.

‘…I need that book.’

The girl examined the book rather sceptically, ‘so do I.’

‘No, sorry. I _really_ need that book.’

The girl looked up to Valentina a playful smile on her lips, ‘so do I.’

Giggling about the situation, neither girl knew what to say or suggest. Neither was going to give up, and both needing it urgently.  

The other girl lay her hand over the top of the cover of the book, then pulled it open and flicked through the pages. The text book flimsy in her grip. ‘I can always photocopy what I need from it and give it to you in like an hour?’

Valentina’s panic subsided in her chest as she nodded quickly and gratefully, ‘thank you ever so much.’

The girl smiled ever wider, ‘were will you be, and I’ll bring it to you?’

‘You don’t need to chase on me to hand it over. I’ll come with you.’

And so, she did, following the girl to a table by the photocopier and sitting down across the table taking out her laptop to begin typing up what she could while she waited. The girl watched with amusement at Valentina’s ease in her company, and sat too, opening the book to begin marking significant chapters with scraps of paper torn from her notepad. They worked in silence opposite one another, glancing up every now and again to note a crease in the brow of the other so engrossed in their work.

There was something intimate about sharing a silence with another person that neither Valentina or the other girl could quite understand. Something that felt so comfortable that each girl wanted to cling onto it for as long as they could. Just the act of working, alone but together. One their own projects, and yet two that overlapped quite thankfully by one text.

After forty minutes, twenty-six pages of the book with paper in, and two hundred words written by Valentina, they both came to a stop. Looking up with a smile that quickly turned into giggles and then laughter without either of them fully knowing or caring.

‘It’ll only take a few minutes to photocopy all this.’ The girl explained, standing as Valentina did the same. ‘You don’t need t--,’

‘I know,’ Valentina interrupted, packing her laptop into her bag and standing with the girl as she lined up all the book pages and scanned them into the printer first.

‘What’s your assignment on,’ Juliana asked slowly, trying to fill the silence as they both watched the green light scan page after page.

‘It’s my dissertation. It’s a cross-cultural analysis on how death is written about in children’s literature,’ Valentina explained, the words hardly meaning anything anymore because of how many times she’d said the statement. How many times the question had been asked by lecturers or strangers to fill small talk. It occurred to her, that this girl was just the same, but a stranger that she would partake in small talk with before then parting ways.

‘Woooow,’ the girl sounded, ‘you’re a third year?’

Valentina nodded, ‘and you?’

‘No. I’m just a first year. It’s for my end of year project. I’m designing a series of dresses inspired by traditional Mexican clothing.’

‘Wow,’ Valentina repeated. ‘You’re a designer?’

The girl hesitated somewhat before nodding with a sense of unsure pride. As though she wasn’t sure if she was able to stay, she was or not, and if so if she was allowed to feel so gleeful about the title. It was an expression which held an entire history.

‘You okay?’ Valentina asked as the girl’s eyes seemed to glaze over in thought for a moment.

Snapped back to the present, the girl smiled, forcing her previous thought again. ‘I’m Juliana.’ She then held out her hand for Valentina to shake.

Valentina took it and shook it with purpose, a large grin on her face, ‘Valentina.’

‘Valentina, very pretty.’ Juliana seemed so sure of herself with the quick comment that made Valentina blush to the tips of her ears. She was used to the catcalls and the aggressive compliments, but Juliana’s compliment seemed softer and gentler. A flower petal in a bed of thorns.

Juliana however didn’t seem fazed by her comment, turning back to the photocopier to remove the book and then press print. She closes the book page and then holds it out for Valentina to take.

‘Thank you, Juliana,’ Valentina said, trying the girl’s name on her own lips.

Both of their hands now clutching the book, neither wished to let go. Valentina looked down at the book cover baring the pictures of skeletons and ofrendas on the front, two corners covered by both her and Juliana’s thumbs.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Juliana said dropping her hands in order to then print out the copies.

Valentina saw as a message detailing the price of the printing was going to be and quickly reached into her pocket to pay Juliana back. There was no reason she should have to give up the book _and_ pay for it. ‘Here, for the printing price,’ she laid a ten dollar note on top of the printer before pushing the book into her bag again and then smiling once more. ‘Thank you again.’

Juliana picked up the note and held it out to Valentina, ‘no I can afford the printing credit, don’t worry.’

‘No,’ Valentina said quickly, backing away from Juliana’s outstretched arm, ‘Thank you for letting me intrude.’

‘Any time.’

Valentina’s thoughts paused for a moment at how earnest Juliana had sounded when Valentina had spent her time stealing a book from her. She’d felt all of the few words she’d spoken to Juliana land and bury themselves into being. Something she was unfamiliar with feeling when Lucho and Co. spent most of their time talking over her or disregarding her words. It wasn’t that Juliana agreed with anything Valentina said, there had been nothing really to agree with, but it was just the feeling that the words weren’t disappearing into thin air like she was used to them doing.

‘Okay.’ Valentina muttered because her voice failed her for a moment before her phone rang in her pocket, pulling her out of her reverie. ‘Yes. Okay.’ She pulled it out of her pocket to read Lucho’s name off the screen. She sighed deeply and caught Juliana’s concerned look because of it.  ‘I have to get this,’ she said quickly pressing ‘answer’ before she was tempted to do otherwise.

She didn’t look behind her as she left, feeling that leaving Juliana so abruptly was so rude that she hardly wanted to see the look on Juliana’s face as affect.

‘Yes, Lucho?’ Valentina groans. 

‘Where are you?’ He asked sternly in reply.

‘I’m at uni. What do you want?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mygosh! Thank you ever so much for the feedback, it's been amazing. Y'all are amazing x


	4. juliana's first huipil

Juliana lingered in the library after having met Valentina. Both to continue with her research, but also to avoid going back home again. Home to where her neighbour made it their personal task to find new ways to irritate and aggravate Juliana.

She’d found in the recent week that while her housemates became more vocal around the house. Got more comfortable in the company of one another, Juliana spend more time away from it all. She didn’t necessarily seclude herself within her room at every waking hour, but the library became her solace, earphones her saviour, and her part-time job a relief. The only downside being that, while everyone else seemed to have formed life long friendships with her housemates, she struggled more in that aspect. No matter how hard she tried to grin and bare the awkwardness that came from finding that she shared nothing in common with the people whose life she shared a backdrop with.

There was nothing in their actions that were directly malicious, but there were differences in morals and lifestyles that couldn’t be ignored. Where Juliana enjoyed standing in the background, her housemates craved centre stage by whatever means possible. Where her housemates spoke of money with such flippancy as though it would always be readily available to them, Juliana calculated every outgoing with a toothcomb. And though these were only small differences, they boiled inside Juliana as she held her tongue.

She looked down to the desk where the photocopied book chapters smiled up to her. The reminder that though she would perhaps never see the girl again, there was the promise of moments of escape from her solitude. She took a highlighter and began going through the black and white photocopies, realising quickly that she really should have photocopied the pictures in colour in order to use them more effectively. Still, the words allowed her to make the notes she needed for the time being. To get started on the project.

The quick sketches from previously are swiftly covered in annotations for creation. Within information on fabrics, cultural significances and histories. When a bulk has been created she knows that the only next step is to try out some of the designs.

Without permission, she snuck into one of the textiles design rooms and takes pieces of fabric from the offcuts bin. Making sure that no one disturbed her, she gets set to working on creating her first huipil. Sewing together squares of patterned fabric to plain ones in a large square, she then cuts a neck hole, ensuring it doesn’t fray folding over the edges and sewing them down before then adding a few embellishments on the front using other strips of patterned fabric she’d found. She then repeated this for the back before then sewing the two together and turning it to the right side.

It sat on the counter in front of her, as she could do nothing but smile at herself. The first one. She itched to created another simply for the pleasure of it but didn’t because of the lecturer who walked into the room to inform her that she needed to leave before her class was to arrive.

Juliana collected together her things, taking with her a few of the patterned cloth that she hadn’t used but had taken a liking to, and of course her new garment.

When she stood outside again, she found that she desperately wanted to show her mother her recent creation. She knew that while Lupe would have been pleased for her, it was an empathetic excitement that lacked any depth considering Lupe had never understood Juliana’s fascination with fashion when their family had always been just looking at it through shop windows. It had been engrained into Juliana when she was younger that fashion was the industry of money that her family didn’t have. It did not dissuade Juliana from trying, however. As Juliana fought for her place at any university that would offer her a bursary to study design, and her mother with only little resistance agreed to support her.

When she’d been accepted, Lupe had wept tears of joy for her daughter, even if it meant three years of separation after having never lived apart before. Juliana and Lupe had only really had one another to rely upon when her dad seemed to pick and choose when to show himself in their lives, and when Juliana had always as a child found it difficult to make friends. They had been there, but now, at eighteen, they were just old names she saw on social media and nothing more.

Juliana folded the shirt and put it into her bag, setting off for home, happy with her day’s work. Listening to the sound of Vale and Guille discuss the weeks local news felt disjointing to Juliana who tried to remember the politics of two years before with difficulty. While she knew that she had at least been aware of what was happening at the time, it was not in such detail, and was not information she had retained. Still, she enjoyed as Vale and Guille spoke for most of the episode about it. A plug, Juliana thought, to get young people to vote, because she could see no other marketing benefit of spending half an hour talking about politics on a podcast geared towards… she thought.

Who had it been geared towards? She’d assumed it was university students when she’d first begun listening. Or maybe perhaps twenty-year-olds who could empathise with _either_ Vale or Guille. And yet the topics they covered seemed too broad while also too niche. Perhaps it had been aimed towards siblings, of which Vale and Guille’s actors played well from what Juliana had seen in comment sections. Yet Juliana, without a sibling, felt as though the podcast was geared towards her. Her age, her demographic, her situation. She guessed that perhaps that was the magic of it, and why it had done so well was because without quite knowing its target audience it had found one in everyone.

The odd episode on politics or Guille and Vale’s relationship dominated episodes or the ones that were mainly small talk whilst it was made to sound as though the two were busy with other things. It was all meant to sound authentic. Was meant to be organic. And Juliana understood that _that_ was its audience. Just people. Who understood conversation and wished to feel a part of one with the distance of never having to commit to speaking out loud.

Once at home, she proudly hung her new garment on her wardrobe door and took a picture for her mum. Then she cleared out the rest of her bag, her notepad and copied chapter on her desk. She then felt her fingers itch to lay the ten-dollar note out on top of them both to complete the visual narrative of her day. She does so. The now crumpled note teasing her.  She’d had enough on her account to afford the extra printing credit, but how quickly the girl had been able to hand over more than what was needed without a care. The cost of the papers would have been less than two dollars and yet an extra eight tormented Juliana. Eight dollars was food for a week. It felt dirty to have fallen into it by luck of seeking out the same book as a stranger. A stranger who she’d shared more words within one hour than she had with her housemates in one week. She’d always been alone as a child, but it didn’t mean she didn’t crave an end to that state of being. Breaking out of it was just harder when she’d known only solitude for so long.

She made the conscious effort to sit in the kitchen to type up her notes for class but found it hard to engage when her housemates walked in and out of the kitchen offering her a quick hello and a smile before they went about their own jobs. Watching the clock, she forced herself to stay there waiting for it to somehow become easier, but it didn’t. And, upon realising that she _had_ to leave in order to get ready for her shift, she felt like she had accomplished nothing except forced discomfort before an inevitably tiresome shift trying to persuade strangers to buy shots from her while manoeuvring a sweaty loud room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only a really short one today :/ i do apologise 
> 
> also, happy international women's day!


	5. a confidant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i'm back at it with this fic. sorry it has taken me so long to post a chapter.
> 
> thank you ever so much for all of the truly heartwarming messages on both this and on Thirty Pesos. i really cannot express to you all enough how meaningful it has been to receive every single comment and every single kudos. you guys are the best. 
> 
> okay, on with the fic

The alarm the next day woke her up, but it was the arm across her chest and sight of Lucho drooling on her pillow that got her out of bed. Not wanting to spend another moment in the same bed with him, slowly she moved from out of his grasp, turned off her alarm and went to sit downstairs.

Garbage from the night before still littering the lounge, she stared at it until she couldn’t any longer and shoved it all in a black garbage bag and threw it out. Feeling in some way better for herself for it, but also as though she’d used it as a way to get rid of the evidence of another night drunk. With no more words of her dissertation written since the previous day on account of her being called away by Lucho to sort out his recent drama with Sergio and then spend the evening helping him forget the drama with alcohol. She always got sucked into it, manipulated into any situation that ignored herself, her own problems and own needs. While she actively set herself the word targets, and while in moments of silence she knew that her happiness was never truly on Lucho’s mind she still let herself be sucked in by him. Because the promise of love seemed worth it.

‘Babe,’ Lucho said from the doorway wearing only his underwear and gazing around the room, obviously noticing the change from the night before but not mentioning it, ‘you weren’t in bed when I woke up. You okay?’

Valentina smiled, ‘yeah. Just needed an early morning.’

‘To… clean?’ He nodded at the now cleared coffee table.

‘No. To work. I was just going to get some breakfast first before I got distracted with the mess.’ The need to explain herself fully filled her senses. To seek from him an approving nod or permission to… act. ‘I didn’t disturb you did I?’

‘A little,’ he sighed, ‘but it doesn’t matter. Are we still going out tonight?’

Valentina felt the alcohol from the night before in her stomach suddenly. How much she’d drunk and how sick she felt because of it. The feeling that she needed to sit motionless for hours until the feeling passed. ‘Tonight? Again?’

Lucho absently nodded, ‘yeah. You wanted to go to that wine tasting thing, right?’

‘Right,’ guilt now added another sickness in her stomach, ‘I did.’

‘You don’t want to go anymore, do you? You said—’

‘I know.’ Valentina interrupted him because they’d has this conversation before and she just wanted to skip to the end when he stormed out and allowed her to get ready to get to the library and work. ‘Not tonight though. I’ve got too much on.’

‘I cancelled plans,’ came his lame argument.

‘I’m sorry, Lucho. But this is important.’

She didn’t hear him as he muttered about his own importance or their relationship’s importance, but she hadn’t needed to because she heard him say it in her own head in that same annoyed tone that he always said it in.

 

Thinking she’d found the jackpot with the spare computer free with the empty table of space next to it, she quickly realised that the reason for this was the broken chair that accompanied it. She perched on top of it, disregarding her own comfort in favour of the workspace available. A classmate of hers sat down silently and awkwardly next to her allowing her to continue with her work but with the presence of a friendly face. Jacobo, fellow Literature major seemed to evade stress like he simply found it useless and so chose not to feel it. His presence lessened hers slightly, allowing her to meet lunch with four hundred words written.

‘I’m going to lunch,’ Valentina told Jacobo who looked to his watch, seemingly surprised by how much time had passed. ‘Do you want to join?’

He then looked back to his screen and checked something on the screen before then shaking his head, ‘I want to reach the end of this chapter then I reckon I’ll go home for lunch.’

Valentine nodded, saving her work and then logging off the computer she’d been working on. The universities logo now sitting in the centre of the screen patiently waiting for the next user.

She pushed all her books and spare papers into her bag and then walked away from the workspace, hoping to carry Jacobo’s chill attitude with her as she ate lunch. Though she removed herself from the area of work, it played on her mind like a crashing symbol of panic. The only thing that seemed to soften the sound or calm the panic was the nights with Lucho and her housemates drinking. It gave her something else to think about and made her too disorientated to think about word counts and secondary sources.

Walking across the campus to the canteen, she spotted Juliana sitting at a bench with a sketch pad in front of her. Leaning over it, the girl was working on something, and Valentina was curious to see what. She remembered the girl – Juliana – was working on a project to do with traditional Mexican fashion, and Valentina was excited to see what had come of the research. She marched over with purpose, but slowly enough that Juliana had time to see her coming and not be caught surprised.

When she was close enough, Juliana looked up with initial confusion as to the person who was approaching her, but then recognised Valentina and smiled warmly. Her pencil no longer near the page, she leaned back and let her shoulders drop relaxed.

Valentina walked closer and glanced at Juliana’s work. A bright picture in the centre of the paper of a shirt with embroidered patterns, littered with annotations around the outside filling the rest of the page.

‘What are you working on?’ Valentina asked to start any conversation with the girl.

Juliana looked to the page as if to remind herself of what she had just been working on a few seconds ago. ‘It’s for my project. The… designing one. I made this shirt and… I’m labelling the influences and such.’ She spoke nervously as though not sure of her own words, or if anyone wanted to listen to them. But Valentina hung on her words, nodding encouragement when the girl paused.

‘You made a shirt?’ Valentina exclaimed leaning over the paper to look at the picture more clearly.

Juliana bit down on her smile and her pride. She gave a small nod. ‘It’s a huipil, very common for peasant Mexican women to wear because they’re very easy to sew, and then they’d sew in these patterns around the neck.’ Juliana looked down at her picture again in order to avoid Valentina’s gaze. ‘How’s your work going?’

Valentina sighed deeply, ‘awfully.’ She laughs as Juliana gives her a sorrowful expression. ‘No, it’s not that bad. I just… There’s a lot to get done, you know?’   
Juliana raised her eyebrows and nodded with a clear understanding.

‘I’m going to grab some lunch in the canteen if you wanted to join?’ Valentina asked, feeling her stomach grumble.

‘Sure, what do they serve?’ Juliana asked, gathering her things together and pushing them into her bag.

So carelessly, Valentina thought. How little Juliana cared for her talent. ‘Have you never been before?’ Valentina asked, surprised.

Juliana shook her head, ‘I usually just go home for lunch.’ Back to where she knew she could eat an entire meal for less than a dollar compared to the four-dollar sandwiches she knew cafes to sell.

‘Oh, it’s great! Super tasty and really cheap.’ Valentina then said with a smile and waited for Juliana to be ready and walk with her.

Juliana walked a half step behind Valentina. No matter how much Valentina then slowed down to try to walk aside Juliana, this half step remained.

Much to Juliana’s surprised the canteen food is rather cheap, and she happily buys herself a meal and piling her plate high with the unlimited salad. She tells herself that she will fill herself and then not need to eat later.

When they get to the counter, Juliana then watched at Valentina paid for her three-dollar meal with a fifty dollar note. Clutched in her own hand is the change to pay for her own meal. It’s warm in her palm from the tight grip.

But then Valentina looked to her again, collecting her change and continuing in their conversation about other worthy eateries in the city, Juliana smiled warmly and pushed the money out of her mind. She handed over her own cash and then followed Valentina to a spare table at the back of the room by a window.

They don’t speak for a moment as they try their respective food and then both hum in tune to one another. Bursting into laughter at their exaggerated reaction over the simple dish, they struggle to carry on chewing, their lips curved.

‘I can’t believe you’ve never eaten here before,’ Valentina then said when they’d managed to keep their laughter at bay. Replaced by only a calm persistent smile.   
‘Well, I did only get here a few months ago,’ Juliana remarked in defence. Unable to keep her ‘don’t eat with your mouth closed’ manners as her stomach suddenly realised how much she had been craving new food. New flavours. Something rich. While her own cooking was good, there was something about food that you hadn’t prepared, food you hadn’t had to think through and that you’ve never tried before that just captured the senses.

‘Of course!’ Valentina exclaimed, ‘I forget you’re just a first year.’

Juliana hummed at her own inexperience. This was just the beginning, and she knew it got a whole lot worse.

‘Pequeño chiquita,’ Valentina hummed softly with a look in her eyes that teased Juliana.

‘Yeah. The calm before the storm,’ Juliana lifted her chin, her defence against the world. To deflect the terror that now sat in her chest over the years to come.

‘It’s fun too. When you get comfortable with the city, and moving in your friends, and get to know the lecturers more. It gets more… comfortable.’ Valentina sighed and then to stop her own lamenting she added, ‘which compensates for the workload.’

Juliana nodded down to her food. The city, the friends, the comfort. It was all a pipe-dream cosiness. How would she know to improve these aspects when they hardly existed for her in the first place? She hadn’t ventured into the city other than to go to work and back, and those she spent time with she couldn’t see wanting to live with her the following year. She considered, as tragic as the fact was that Valentina was closest to a friend she had, and this girl she had only known for a week. And would be leaving when the year ended.

‘Why so sad?’ Valentina asked softly, ‘it’s meant to be a happy time.’

‘I guess I’m just lonely here.’ Juliana admitted. Cursing herself for committing it to the truth. While the feeling existed only in her head it was easy to avoid, it was easy to cast aside. But when it was spoken, she had to pay it attention. The feeling of both claustrophobia and agoraphobia within the same breath. Feeling like ever decision could mess up her entire life, and yet feeling as though they had no weight whatsoever. She wondered if the other’s felt like this too but realised they couldn’t have done. Because their smiles were too wide and their actions careless.

‘I understand,’ Valentina said softly, ‘I was too in first year.’

Juliana waited, listening intently for Valentina to say more. ‘I’d never left home before for so long. And everyone was just telling me that this was it. That I would make myself when I had to space too. But I just felt like the same person, just now without the comfort of my family and a space I knew. I guess they don’t tell you that sometimes your problems don’t leave just because you do.’

‘What changed?’

‘I think I just let myself feel it for a while. To realise what that sadness was and try to alter some of the things that caused it. And, I kept in contact with my brother, I called him weekly to talk about everything. Still do. I met my boyfriend in first year too. He helped a lot. To take my mind off of it all.’ Valentina smiled. And then, seeing the wonder in Juliana’s eyes she took a great deep breath and exhaled it all. Feeling her chest expand and the muscles stretch before then relaxing them in one gust of air expelled from the lungs. All of those feelings that she’d feared for so long and buried down within her till they’d crippled her. And now they were just… gone. Not completely, of course, it wasn’t something that she would ever be ‘rid of’. But the pain was more absent. The fear of its power over her and her life was smaller as she maintained the knowledge that these were things that existed inside her head only. Letting those thoughts and feelings advise her but not govern her anymore.

‘Wow,’ Juliana breathed with a weak smile.

‘Is there anyone like that for you? That helps just to talk to?’ Valentina tried with a furrowed brow.

Juliana thought. Surely she did, surely there was someone that would come to mind when she thought of emotional support. But her mind came blank. Her mother’s face appeared briefly before she realised that the feeling was perhaps just comfortable familiarity. While she loved her mum dearly and knew the same to be returned, she wasn’t sure that secure emotional support was what they shared.

Sadly, she shook her head and looked down to her plate.

‘No one?’ Valentina spoke aloud in disbelief.

‘Not really. It’s just me.’ Juliana replied sadly.

‘Well, now you have me.’

Juliana looked up, unsure of what to say.

Valentina laughed, ‘sorry. I mean if you don't mind me bothering you then I'd quite like to be your friend/confidant.’

‘Yes,’ Juliana said quickly, ‘I would like that.’

‘Good, because it’d be a shame if you weren’t able to keep making these amazing clothes,’ she gestured towards Juliana bag making them both smile widely.   
Juliana opened her mouth to protest the compliment but stopped it passing her lips as she knew the direct refusal that Valentina would have towards it. So she lay her hand upon the bag to ground herself as her head ran amongst the clouds, and then continued to eat her food with a hindering smile on her lips that was only perpetuated by Valentina’s own smile directed across the table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm not gonna lie i'm not 100% sure where this fic is going. i think i had an idea when i set out but now i'm not so sure aha. but we'll see. i have like in a basic idea we'll just see how i get there. 
> 
> again, thank you allllllll so much, 
> 
> muchos besos!


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